


for your loss

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: Lisa finally finds out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isloremipsumafterall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/gifts).



> Because not knowing if Lisa knows if her brother has died or not is something that worries me on a constant basis. And Beej has heard too many of those worries. (Like when Flash mentioned Lisa on Tuesday all I could think was like ?? Does she know???) Anyways, Beej asked for this, blame her.

She always knew.

 

Maybe no one had said the words.

Maybe no one even had to to. 

She had felt it deep inside of her one day, woken up with a cold air trapped inside her body, a feeling of endless loneliness. She’d been lying low at a safe house in Keystone, and it had hit her suddenly there in the middle of the night that something was missing. The other half of her was suddenly gone.

At the time it had been written off as a nightmare or a window left open, but looking back she had known in any instant. 

 

On the other hand, the things she didn’t know could fill a room. 

 

She hadn’t known he was gone. 

Hadn’t known they were gone. 

Time travel. 

It seems like a joke when she hears about it years later.

Years too late to do anything, because if time travel can’t even fix the mess that her life has been. That her life has become. Can it even be real? 

She stares him down when he tells her this, five drinks into the night, too late after the fact to change anything.

He nods at her sagely, in agreeance. 

Time travel has cheated them both. 

“I remember, seeing you one time shortly after you left,” she says, unable to bring herself to drink from her own bottle. Throat suddenly too tight. “I was at this bar, and I thought for a second I saw you there in the parking lot, you had this strange armor on and-”

“That was me.” 

She waits for a further explanation. 

For anything more than that, but he remains silent.

“Was Le-” the name is even harder to say. What has she done to deserve this? “Was my brother already -” a choked off sob - “By that point.” 

He seems to understand her. 

They’ve always been able to understand each other, maybe not as good as he understood either of them - but it is a close thing.

Now it’s all they have left. 

“No, not then.” 

 

She hadn’t known the Flash would be the first person to tell her?

He doesn’t know he’s the first when he says it.

She’s in town to steal some diamonds. Child’s play when it comes down to it, just something she wants, because she’s bored and that cold feeling that came over her in Keystone had crept back up her spine again a few nights before. 

He doesn’t stop her heist, doesn’t try to.

Which should be a reminder of something more, of something lost, but he’s there leaning up against her motorcycle with a sad look on the part of his face that she can see.

She says “Come to ruin the fun” like it’s all a big joke.

But when he replies, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss,” it’s not a joke anymore.

She finds out the Flash’s name and hour later as he sits her in safe house.

(The one off 53rd street, the one her brother picked out, because he liked the soft blue walls in the kitchenette.) 

Making her a cup of tea and insisting a dead man could still be a good man.

That he died a  _ hero _ . 

She wants to scream, wants to tell him that her brother was never supposed to be a hero, at least not to anyone else.

Her and Mick were the only one ever supposed to see that side of him and now -

She won’t cry in front of the Flash, in front of Barry Allen, but it’s a near thing. 

 

She doesn’t know where to go now.

What to do with this information.

She finds herself stopping and starting whenever she wants to say his name, fumbling while she gives orders to her rogues. Trying to remember to say that he  _ was  _ or  _ had been  _ rather than  _ is _ .

It gets easier every time.

Even if it breaks her heart into more pieces than it already had been broken into, a second later. 

She commits crimes in his honor because this is the way they’ve always been able to connect with each other. The one thing that made them Snarts rather than Smiths or Joneses. 

There’s no headstone to visit. 

She’d never considered herself the type that would want to do that sort of thing, but even if she had… There wasn’t one.

That was apparently the downside of sacrificing oneself in a heroic explosion while lost in time.

That those left behind had no where proper to mourn. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Life wasn’t fair. 

 

Of course, this she had also always known. 

 


End file.
